


Fever

by phoenixburncold



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean takes care of sick human!Castiel, Dean's immune system is too strong, Destiel - Freeform, Fever, Human!Castiel - Freeform, Illness, Kisses, M/M, Protector dean, Sick kisses, human!Castiel gets sick, light destiel, protector - Freeform, sick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 16:48:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4487193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixburncold/pseuds/phoenixburncold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel gets sick for the first time. Dean takes care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fever

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the worst fever I've ever had and the fact I was all alone that week.

Castiel woke. Moaning, he turned to his side, the old car seat scratchy against his cheek. His joints ached, his head throbbed, and his vision was blurred. Swallowing pained him. He moaned again before reaching for the phone Dean had given him before dropping him off several miles from the Bunker. He hit the only number in the phone, moaning again as even that movement caused him pain. He put the phone to his ear, but had to keep it a few centimeters away from it – the noise made his head ache even more.

“Hello?”

“Dean,” Castiel said softly.

“He-llo?” Dean said again, slight annoyance in his voice.

Castiel took a breath. “Dean,” he shouted hoarsely.

Dean blinked, pressing the phone closer to his ear. “Cass? That you?”

“Dean,” came the soft reply.

“Cass, what’s the matter buddy?”

The fallen angel groaned, blinking several times. “I…I think I’ve been made by a witch.”

“What did you do?” Dean’s accusation made the angel’s head pound.

“Nothing,” Castiel insisted. “Listen, I don’t have a lot of time if it’s a witch. Can…can you help me?”

“Okay, okay,” Dean said, panic in his voice. “Where are you?”

“The edge of the city Atwood. There’s…there’s an abandoned junkyard, I’m…I’m in a pink…” Castiel passed out, the phone dropping to the floor.

“Cass?” Dean asked through the phone. “Cass?!”

~ 

“Cass? Cass!” Castiel moaned, his head shaking. “Wake up dammit.” Castiel moaned again, opening his eyes.

“Dean,” the fallen angel gasped. The hunter had thrown open the car door and had a leg in the car as he gripped Castiel’s shoulders.

“Stay with me Cass,” Dean said gruffly, hauling him out of the muted pink four-door car and slinging an arm around the fallen angel’s waist. Castiel barely stayed on his feet, swaying. Dean took a step and Castiel’s forehead pressed against Dean’s neck. “Geez Cass, you’re burning up.”

“I’m on fire?” Castiel asked hoarsely, trying to focus on walking.

Dean let out a half-amused huff before gripping Castiel tighter. The fallen angel’s knees gave out a second later. Dean heaved him back onto his feet. “Why are you sleeping here Cass? There’s like four motels within two blocks of this place.” 

“No money,” Castiel moaned hoarsely. 

Dean walked Castiel to the Impala’s backseat. Leaning the clearly-out-of-it Cass against the side of the car, the hunter opened the door and settled Castiel against the seat. Touching his skin again, Dean hissed, pulling his fingers away. “You’re like 1000 degrees Cass.” 

“Did you find the hex bag?” Castiel managed before moaning. 

Dean rolled his eyes, pretending he hadn’t searched the entire car he had found Cass in for a hex bag before touching the fallen angel’s forehead and realizing he had just been ill. “It’s not a witch Cass. You’re sick.” He shut the door before getting in the driver’s seat. Dean started the car, causing a sharp burst of pain to slice through Castiel’s head. Castiel blinked slowly, rolling softly with the car’s momentum. He closed his eyes, knowing everything would be okay now that Dean was there. 

~ 

Castiel woke as Dean slapped his shin. “Get up,” he barked. Castiel moaned deeply, his head continuing to pound like a war drum. Dean rolled his eyes and sighed before helping Castiel out of the car.

“Where are we?” Castiel whispered, unable to speak louder.

“Motel,” Dean replied, walking Castiel to the main building’s door. “A room with two beds,” Dean said, smiling to the woman at the counter. He slapped Castiel’s chest, causing the fallen angel to groan, head rolling. “This one had too much to drink and I got the short stick to stay with him til he’s sober.”

“Riiiigggghhhht,” the woman said before typing on the computer. “Card?”

Dean slipped the card on the countertop, smiling his best smile. “Preferably on the first floor,” he said. “Stairs won’t go well with him, ya know…”

The woman glanced at the two men again before taking the card.

~ 

Dean dropped Castiel against the nearest bed, releasing another moan from him. The hunter was sweating from being so close to the feverish male and pulled his shirts away from his own skin to get some air between them. Castiel blinked at him, mute and in obvious pain. His body shivered. Dean unwillingly flashed back to Sam, feverish and freaky in that hotel room a few doors down from Metatron. The hunter sighed and went to the bathroom, running the cold water.

Castiel moaned deeply as the cold, soaking washcloth touched his skin. Dean was almost surprised steam didn’t rise from the contact. “What is this?” Castiel whispered, hazy eyes looking at Dean, focusing and un-focusing.

“It’s a fever, Cass. You’re just sick. It happens when you’re human.”

“My throat…”

“Sore? Yea, happens when you get sick. Now lie still or I’ll throw a bucket of ice water on you.”

“That almost sounds pleasant.”

“Trust me, it’s not.”

Castiel sighed, blinking.

Gently, Dean slipped the dirty jacket off Castiel. His skin almost burned Dean’s. Dean looked worriedly at Castiel. “I’ll be right back,” Dean said, glancing at the half-conscious Castiel before heading out to get his bag of things.

~ 

Castiel burst out of the water, gasping. The tub was filled with ice water and he was extremely uncomfortable. Castiel coughed, gripping the sides of the tub. Water dripped into his eyes as he gasped for breath. He struggled to get out of the tub but was too weak, instead slipping under the surface of the water again. Hands gripped his shirt, hauling him out of the tub. Castiel fell to the floor, soaked and gasping.

“Geez Cass,” Dean breathed, squatting beside him.

Castiel looked up at him, eyes still hazy. “It wasn’t pleasant.”

Dean cracked a smile. “Yea.” The hunter helped the other male sit up. “But you were 111 degrees. If I hadn’t thrown you in there your brain would have turned to mush.”

“You saved me.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Maybe,” he replied. “You’ve still got a massive fever.” He leaned Castiel against the tub and gripped a cup he had settled on the floor “Here, drink this.” Castiel wrapped his hands around the cup but couldn’t grip it for more than a second. “Geez,” Dean sighed before taking the cup and tipping the edge of it into Castiel’s mouth. The ill male swallowed, the warm liquid easing his aching throat momentarily. “Catch a fever and you’re useless,” Dean sighed, tipping the entire contents into Castiel’s mouth, watching him swallow to make sure he wasn’t chocking the guy. “Granted it’s a massive fever…” Castiel looked at him like a sick puppy. “Boy, you really go all or nothing, don’t you?” Castiel’s head rolled before settling against the tub. Castiel moaned again. “Again,” Dean said, tipping another cup into the other’s mouth.

Two cups later Castiel pulled his head away. “Come on Cass, last one.” The fallen angel moaned. “You gotta get rehydrated Cass. You’ve been sweating like crazy trying to get the fever down.” Castiel pulled away again from Dean. “Castiel,” snapped Dean, throwing on his Big Brother/Part Dad voice. “You _will_ drink this.” Castiel blinked, looking at Dean a moment before letting the hunter slip the rim of the cup over his lower lip. Castiel swallowed a few times before the cup was removed. “Here, swallow these.”

Castiel looked at the two pills in Dean’s large hand. “Wha –?”

“It should help bring the fever down. And ease that headache. And maybe even that sore throat of yours.”

Castiel didn’t need any more information. Weakly, he reached for the pills.

“I got it,” Dean sighed, tipping the pills in Castiel’s mouth and slipping the last of the drink to chase them.

“Thank you,” Castiel said, looking up at Dean.

Dean sighed again. “Yea well, first time’s on the house. You get sick again, don’t be callin’ me.”

Panic pierced the feverish haze in Castiel’s eyes. “This could happen again?” he asked hoarsely.

Dean rolled his eyes. “That’s what you get when you sleep in junkyards and other filthy places. You should have told me you didn’t have any money. I would have given you some, for a few motels and some food at least. When was the last time you ate anyway?”

Castiel’s eyes closed and he slumped against the tub. Dean grabbed the thermostat on the sink and stuck it in Castiel’s mouth. It read 110. Dean swore before hauling Castiel back into the tub, making sure he kept his hands on him this time so the fallen angel didn’t drown. He pushed down his fear for the angel's life, knowing he would do whatever it took to keep the fallen angel alive. Quietly he berated himself for not giving Cass some money before dropping him off. 

~ 

After a repeat performance of the tub soak, Dean gave Castiel another cup of the Winchester’s home-sick mix. “This isn’t fun,” Castiel moaned as he swallowed the last of it.

“Yea…I know Cass.” Dean waited a few minutes and then checked Castiel’s temperature again; it was down to 100.5. He moved Castiel to the other side of the room near the bathroom door before wrapping a towel around his shoulders. He threw another one over Castiel’s head. Drying him off as best he could, Dean rubbed the towels over Castiel’s hot skin and soaked clothes. Then the hunter wrapped a few dry towels around Castiel before tugging the bedspread off the nearest bed and wrapping it around him as well. Now that his fever wasn’t massively high, Dean could let him sweat it out.

Mostly dry, Castiel looked up at Dean, eyes still hazy. “Thank you,” Castiel said.

“Shut up Cass,” Dean replied gruffly before rolling the towel over Castiel’s hair one more time, blocking the fallen angel’s eyes. “Okay. That’s about as good as it gets. Are you hungry?”

Castiel shook his head very slowly.

“When was the last time you ate?”

The ill man blinked, thinking. A few heartbeats later he replied, “It was Wednesday, an all you can eat buffet.”

Dean swore. “Dude, it’s _Saturday_.” Castiel merely blinked at him. Dean sighed. “Are you nauseous?”

“What does that mean?”

“Is your stomach queasy? Do you think you can eat something?”

“I don’t know.”

Dean sighed. “Okay, just stay there.” He made sure Castiel could sit up on his own against the wall before heading out of the motel again. Returning with the Sprite and bag of pretzels he got from the vending machine outside, Dean squatted next to Cass again, opening both items. “Drink and eat,” Dean ordered gently, handing both to Castiel. The fallen angel managed to eat a few of the pretzels on his own and drink half of the sprite slowly, Dean helping tip the bottle when Cass couldn’t anymore. Castiel panted, even the simple action of eating exhausting. “Okay, okay,” Dean said, taking the soda and bag from Castiel. “You’re making me tired just watching you.” Castiel blinked at Dean, head bobbing. “How you feeling?”

Castiel blinked at Dean like an owl, shivering under the layers of blankets and towels. 

“Yea,” Dean sighed. “Dumb question.”

Castiel sighed. “I’m tired.”

Dean nodded. “I’m gonna get you to the bed so you can sleep.”

Castiel nodded slowly, slipping his arm out of the towels to wrap around Dean’s neck. Dean helped him stand and brought him to the bed. Pulling the sheets back, the hunter eased Castiel into the bed, still mostly wrapped in the bedspread and towels. He shifted the sheets over the ill male and pulled the bedspread off the other bed to lay it over Castiel. Settling the fallen angel’s head against the pillow, Dean tucked the covers up to Castiel’s chin. He leaned close to the other male. “Get some sleep Cass, I’ll be here if you need me.”

Castiel nodded before his eyes closed. He was snoring a few moments later.

Dean settled into the chair across from the bed and threw his jacket over himself.

~ 

His pocket buzzed as the ringtone for his cell sounded. Dean woke with a start before pulling the phone from his pocket, his jacket falling to the ground. “Hello.”

“Dean.”

“Sam,” Dean said softly, wiping his eyes with a hand gently. “Hey.”

“What happened?”

Dean glanced at the still sleeping Castiel before standing. He pulled the curtains from window and went outside, watching Cass through it as he spoke. “Castiel’s sick. Like 111-degree-fever-and-couldn’t-stand-up sick.”

“Damn,” Sam breathed.

“Yea. So I’m keeping an eye on him til the fever breaks at least.”

“Yea, yea. Well…just tell him I hope he gets better.”

“I will. Everything okay over there?”

“Yep,” Sam said. “Nothing new. I’m looking for our next case. So far nothing.”

“Okay, good. Don’t start anything without me.”

“Yea,” Sam said before hanging up.

Dean sighed, blinking several times before going back into the room. Checking the time, Dean realized he had been sleeping for five hours. “Wow,” he said, impressed. It had been years since he had gotten that much sleep in one setting.

“Dean?” Castiel asked softly.

“Cass,” Dean said, moving to his side. Their eyes met.

“I have to use the bathroom.”

Dean gave a half smile. “I’ll walk you there, but I am _not_ doing anything else.”

~ 

Dean helped the ill male back into the bed a few minutes later, propping him up against the headboard. The hunter handed Castiel another cup. “How many more of these do I have to drink?” Castiel moaned before lifting the cup to his lips. Dean helped tip the cup when Castiel got weaker, but the fallen angel managed to keep hold of the cup.

“Two more,” Dean replied, handing the other cup to Cass. The fallen angel sighed, shivered, and drank the cups Dean had made while Castiel took his bathroom trip. He swallowed two more pills and ate a few more pretzels before beginning to nod off again. Dean settled Castiel flat against the bed and moments later Castiel was asleep again.

Dean watched over the sleeping man and actually caught a few more Zs himself. Somehow, watching Castiel sleep calmed Dean more than alcohol or good sex. The fallen angel snored deeply due to his illness, lips moving every once in a while, forehead scrunching from time to time. Dean felt hypersensitive to ill male, every time Castiel shifted or moaned Dean watched him like a hawk. Castiel slept deeply through it all, mouth open slightly, never waking.

The fever finally broke in the 7AM hour. Dean, who had been checking the unconscious male every hour, pulled the sheets and towels off Castiel until he was just under the sheets and a bedspread. The hunter brewed three more cups of the Winchester mix and some coffee for himself. For some reason, he felt no need to reach for the scotch he kept in the inner pocket of his jacket. Making sure Castiel was still fast asleep, Dean slipped out to get breakfast for them. When he returned, the drinks were done. He gently shook Castiel awake.

The fallen angel blinked slowly, looking up at Dean leaning over him. “Hey,” Castiel whispered.

“Hey,” Dean said with a small smile. “Feel any better?”

Castiel nodded.

“I’ve got some breakfast. You should eat.”

Castiel realized his stomach did feel empty and nodded. His clothes were stiff from being sweated in and then cooled. He groaned softly as he sat up. While the fever was gone, his throat still pained him and his head began pounding. He felt his full age as he set his feet on the ground.

Dean heard the fallen angel moan and looked back at him. “Get back in bed,” the hunter sighed. Cass looked up at Dean, blinked slowly, and obeyed. Dean settled the food on the bedspread and sat near Castiel’s feet under the covers. He handed Castiel a cup he brewed for him, settling the other two on the nightstand by the bed before settling his own coffee cup on his thigh. Castiel ate slowly, his throat still painful, but Dean was secretly pleased he was eating everything Dean put before him. He even took the drinks without complaint.

“You look better,” Dean said before taking another sip of his coffee.

Castiel nodded. “I feel better.”

“Good.”

There was a long silence as Castiel swallowed, in obvious pain as he did so. He took another sip from his second cup of the mix before looking up at Dean. “Are…are you going to leave now?”

Dean looked up from his coffee. “Do you want me to?”

Castiel shook his head.

“Then I won’t.”

Castiel gave a weak smile. “Thank you,” he said.

Dean shifted, uncomfortable under the deep blue stare.

“Dean,” Castiel started and then stopped.

“Yea?” Dean asked, looking up at him after a few breaths of silence had passed. He was surprised to see the fallen angel blushing, unable to look at him.

“Did…did you kiss me last night?”

“What?! NO,” Dean said sharply.

“Oh,” Castiel said, blush deepening and spreading. “It must…it must have been…my illness.”

“Yea,” Dean managed before clearing his throat. “With the fever as high as yours was, you were bound to have some hallucinations.”

“I see,” Castiel said, still unable to look at Dean. They ate in silence for several minutes. A question grew in Dean’s mind, unwanted…or perhaps just finally made conscious.

Dean watched Castiel carefully and realized he was doing so. _Just making sure he’s okay_ , Dean told himself. _Yea, sure, Dean._ The hunter sighed, trying to stop the inner fights he always had with himself, especially when Cass was around.

“Are you alright?” Castiel asked. Then he got a look of panic on his face. “I haven’t made _you_ ill, have I?”

“No,” Dean replied quickly. “Don’t worry. I’ve got a strong immune system.” He thumped his chest proudly. “Haven’t been sick in a year.”

“Amazing, since you drink copious amounts of alcohol and eat mostly fast food,” Castiel said softly.

“Excuse me?” Dean asked, looking up from his box of food.

“Nothing,” Castiel said quickly, blushing and staring at his food.

“If you don’t like the food you don’t have to eat it,” Dean snapped.

“No,” Cass said, glancing up at Dean before looking down again. “It’s good.”

Dean noticed how the dark lashes protected Castiel’s crystal blue eyes. The light from the window cascaded over Castiel’s black hair and pale skin. Dean was glad to see the man’s skin was no longer flushed from the fever, but he worried for the pallor that had replaced the flush. Dean could tell the fallen angel was weak, by the way he held the fork, scooping the contents into his mouth as quickly as possible before his arm fell. Then he realized he could tell Cass was weak just by little movements. Dean blushed at the realization, focusing on his own food.

Unwanted memories came to him. The realization he had felt calmer watching Cass sleep than he had in months, the look in Castiel’s feverish eyes as Dean dried him off, the look Cass had given him that brief moment when he had woken the fallen angel. A thousand little moments shared between them with one big conclusion hiding behind them all.

They finished eating and Dean downed the last of his coffee. Cass took up the last cup of the brewed mix.

~^^~ 

Castiel was glad to find the drink tasted just as good cold as it did when it was warm. He tried not to look at Dean, but it was difficult, especially when Dean kept staring at him. Cass took a large gulp from the cup, the edge of the cup blinding him from Dean’s gaze briefly. He struggled with his memories, trying to recall what had really happened. The last twenty-four hours were in a haze, memories blurred and rimmed with black. He was completely certain Dean had walked Castiel into the motel and had dunked him in an ice-cold tub. He tried to see the difference between those memories and the memory of Dean leaning down over him, cool lips against his cracked and feverish ones. He failed…perhaps because he liked the feelings that came from remembering.

Minutes passed in silence. Then Dean’s voice cut into the quiet. “Cass?”

The fallen angel looked up at Dean through his black lashes. “Yes Dean?” The tips of Dean’s ears began to redden. The hunter couldn’t look at Cass for more than a few seconds. “Would…uh…would you want me to…to kiss you?”

~^^~

There it was – the question that had nagged Dean for several long minutes, spoken aloud. He blushed deeply, covering it up by turning to re-adjust his jacket at the edge of the bed. The bed shifted slightly. When he turned back, Castiel was only inches away. The fallen angel had his hands flat on the bedspread just an inch from Dean’s jeans, the sheets tangled around his legs. He was keeping himself up by his hands, looking almost like a beached mermaid, only much more human, and (dear god) more kissable than any mermaid he had seen.

“Yes,” Castiel answered in a whisper, before his gaze dropped. 

Dean blushed again, silently berating himself for acting like a school girl. He took a breath and, before all his nerve disappeared, leaned forward, closing the distance between them.

Castiel’s lips were badly chapped from the fever but they were eager, nearly as eager as Dean’s. Without thinking, Dean’s hand stretched up to brush Castiel’s jaw, the beginnings of his beard scratching against Dean’s palm lightly.

Castiel pulled away first and Dean let him. The fallen angel panted lightly. This close, Dean could see the slight haze still in Castiel’s dull blue eyes. He was still pretty sick.

As if he had read Dean’s mind, Castiel pulled away, shifting to sit down on the bed again. 

“I’m ill,” he said. “I will only get you sick as well.”

“No,” Dean breathed, slightly dazed from the kiss. “Told you, strong immune system.”

But Cass was shaking his head, looking at his hands as they lay in his lap. “I didn’t want it to be like this,” he said. “I didn’t want our kiss to be with me ill and you…” he trailed off, glancing up at Dean only to look back at his hands.

“Cass,” Dean breathed. He took a breath, gathering his courage, letting himself feel what he had kept hidden by fear and stubbornness. Dean moved forward, cupping Castiel’s chin with a curled finger, forcing him to look up. Bright green met cloudy blue. “There will be more times.”

The transformation in Castiel cracked Dean’s heart and healed his soul all at once. Cass looked at Dean, smiling, eyes glinting. He looked almost like a child. Dean grinned as well, knowing _he_ had done this; he, Dean Winchester, had made a fallen angel forget his troubles enough to ease unspeakable years off his features.

Dean shifted again, kissing Castiel deeply. The kiss was eagerly returned, and for a moment there was nothing but two men who had finally allowed themselves to love the other fully.


End file.
